I have traveled the road from childhood poverty filled with spaghetti dinners 3 times a week and homemade clothes, all of it other than underwear, which I bet she would have sewn it if it weren't the annual holiday gifts from one aunt, to very comfy upper middle class SAHM~dom, filled with every cooking appliance a woman could dream of and not a day of work for me, just raising children how to keep gardens and what herbs are used for other than cooking and medicine, to a simpler life as "wife" of a school teacher, still cushy with a dream job reading books and being an adult, weekends in the country filled with great food and seeing the history of the people who invaded the country of my people as a tourist with an open eye, to poverty, deep despairing will I eat today poverty, slowly climbed out of that working while sick with 4th child heavy and strong in my older body, now, a level of comfort but not a level of status. Once the "well-off" married, home owning friend to unwed trailer and welfare moms, once the one to be sure to make too much food so I could easily feed other families, I am now the friend in the trailer. I am now the one who they do not outright say anything disparaging to, but who they do view differently. I am the one who comes home to find packages of hand-me downs instead of creating care packages for other children and it was my family who was adopted by another to receive gifts at the holidays not too long ago.

There are days when I show off my outfit and say that I am proud they all were gotten so cheaply at the local thrift store we laughingly call "Buffums". In my old lives I shopped thrift stores for oddities, for unusual items not easily found new, but now it is where I have bought every last pair of jeans I own and where I find the blouses I like but can no longer afford new. Yet I bought all of our shoes NEW, clearance from a place which I had only dreamed of buying from before. I have learned good shoes and good bras are a must, no matter how you skimp on the rest of a wardrobe, so only Victoria Secrets foundations and Lands End footwear from now on.

I am a non-professional, with dreams of my name in print, my words shared by others in my "demographic", a roadmap for others younger in experience, or who had passed the same way to remind them if they too ended up caught once again in mundanity. A lot of my words have found a new home, a community to touch and be touched by, friends, women, sisters all who know me in many ways. I am fortunate to have begun meeting many members of our on-line community in real life, to have forged real friendships with some truly remarkable women across this world of ours.

My first writing was inspired by a lack, by a mark of how my life was different. It was the 2nd grade. We were given a sheet of paper with a line drawing of a girl on a sled, smiling as she prepared to slide down the hill. We were to write about a day we played in snow. Now see, I live in Los Angeles, I am not from a family with money for ski vacations or even camping weekends in nearby Big Bear. All I knew of snow at that point was from movies or TV or books. So I created characters and wrote a fantasy about friends and snowballs and cocoa. I was hooked. I wrote every assignment that year about a girl I named Me.

Now, I am writing again inspired by lack. I exist in a level of lack which makes me laugh. It really does. I am viewed as a poor, non-working single mother of four, one born out of wedlock, who doesn't have a car and lives in a trailer on the wrong side of the tracks. It makes me laugh, what folks see vs. what is real.

I am only poor by financial "standards" because we do not have a combined income of more than some arbitrary number. And because a chunk of that income goes to child support for other siblings while my own ex does not pay his share of either the divorce agreement or child support.

I work. I am the SAHM friend who takes care of other mother's children so they could get back to their careers. I am a career mama, not just to my own children. I was fortunate in my old life to be married to a profession which made afforded me ability to be a SAHM with a bank account. Now, after having held jobs mostly in management and not having been too happy there, I am not willing to trade a paycheck and all that to miss out on my last child and only son's childhood. So I snatch my child out of his bed at unseemly a.m. hours to get to your house so you can go to your job and miss out on your child's daytime hours. I founded and direct an international non-profit, which helped out children evacuees of Hurricane Katrina. What did you do? Send a small donation to some large unwieldy charity, which spent the dollars on admin and red tape? I got supplies into hands of needy children. I raised toys, new toys for a group of evacuees to have a Merry Christmas.

I am single by choice. Was married nearly 10 years to the wrong man. Now I live happily with the right guy. Why ruin it with technicalities? We are both older, been there, done that, seen what marriage does not mean and what marriage does not "protect". With 3 "failed" marriages behind both of us we see no reason to taint our relationship and cause grief down whatever road we find ourselves on. Plus, I really loove that we got kicked out of church since we are living in sin. Oh joy! Not necessarily cause I am some heathen Native (which was edged about, but the lack of paperwork was a solid excuse).

I have four children. I was married when I was 20 and have three daughters from that experience. My youngest child was a choice of the universe, a gift from the powers that be to allow us to enjoy his little soul and the bond of parenthood. He has his father's name. We live as a family. It was not planned, but how many children in marriages are?

I have a car. It sits outside my house, covered, cobwebs lace the inside and there is a dampness in her due to rain leaking in. It is an awesome car. No one I know who drives around has such a car. Sand dollar is an early 1950's Mercedes with real woodwork and leather seats. She belonged to a diplomat. Heads turn when we used to drive her around town. Now, she sits for a variety of reasons, money only one of those. She needs a new engine and since she is so old and unique we can not find a mechanic in all of San Diego County willing to work on her. We take public transportation because it really is cheaper than driving these days of nearly $3 a gallon.

I live in a trailer. It is 50 feet long by, what 10 feet wide? It has an enclosed patio. We have more yard than some folks I know who own homes do. We are blessed with Donna, an avocado tree which graces us with free fruit. We own the trailer. We pay less than most folks' car payments for our "rent". Including all utilities; water, gas & electric. At night, I am soothed to sleep by the sounds of the ocean. Yes! The ocean! I live closer to the Pacific Ocean here on the coast than anyone we know does or, get this, can afford to! Yes, my plumbing needed some major work and the roof was leaking. But we fixed those things. Yes, I have only 2 bedrooms, but we are a close family. Yes, it is the wrong side of the tracks. The tracks are between us and the Coast Highway and the ocean. But, ahem, they are the only thing between my home and those things. Movie stars live on the other side of the tracks. Seriously, and folks whose parents bought their tiny bungalows way back when this was just a funky beach town. Okay, it's still a funky beach town. But, I live at the beach.

What you think you see when you look at me, or that mama with blue hair or the one with dreadlocks, or the one with tattoos and piercings, is not necessarily who they are. Did you know Blue Hair has a degree in Physics and is studying Acupuncture? Would you guess Dreadlocks drove hundreds of miles to set up emergency medical centers after Hurricane Katrina? Would you dream the woman with body art is a well-known and respected rehab therapist or mid-wife? Maybe, you should look again, and re-evaluate your way of looking at all of us.